


lay down your sword

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Law’s full weight leans against Zoro's side, like a sword leaning against another, hilt to hilt.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	lay down your sword

The boat jolts and Zoro’s half-dream recedes, a low rock under the rising tide, and Zoro’s too tired and too awake to chase it, had been too aware when he’d been dreaming it that he’d been half-asleep. He hears someone saying something, in the wind, maybe Usopp or Jimbei, saying he can’t hear what, but nothing of any urgency, no threat. The sun is harshly bright through his eyelid, and Zoro tries hard not to move, to slip back under, to register the voices but let them pass through him as if he’s made of air. He can; he could; he thinks in streams of words that make no sense, feels as if he’s falling back, and then, crisp and clear, come footsteps on the deck, a pace, a tone of soles on the wood that he knows all too well, and then the sun is blocked, but Zoro’s eyelid is still heavy. He reaches up his hand, has clasped Law’s in it before his eye is open. 

He’s not supposed to meet up with them for another few days--and that must have been the  _ Polar Tang _ coming up against the  _ Sunny _ , that had roused him, but that thought is slightly less relevant than being able to look Law over as his vision adjusts to the harshness of the sun, backlighting Law against the clear sky. He looks good, no injuries, no more weary than usual, not happy exactly but not upset. Zoro tugs at Law’s hand, nowhere near hard enough to actually pull him down, but hard enough for Law to place his sword down on the deck, to the side, and then oblige him and sit down. Zoro rolls over, nearer, closing his eye again. 

“Change of plans?” he asks, cracking it back open.

Law nods. “Nothing to worry about.”

Zoro squeezes his hand, and already sleep is returning, the tide pulling away from the outlines of his dreams, pulling him along toward them. Their hands rest on Law’s thigh, the worn-in fabric of his pants familiar against Zoro’s knuckles.

* * *

It’s obvious that Law had learned to really fight with Kikoku, or at least one very like it in weight and balance, that he’s not so much a swordfighter as a user of this particular weapon. It’s not something that Zoro can relate to, really; he’d used dozens of practice swords before Wado and more second and third swords than he can count or even recall, has adjusted his own style over and over again, has cycled out so many techniques and moves that no longer work for him, honed them to maximum power and efficiency until they’re unrecognizable, a new way of using a sword entirely.

Being that attuned to one weapon is a strength, when you’re using it; it’s a potential weakness when you’re not, or when you’re so used to using it in certain ways--and sometimes they spar like that, haki to haki, Law’s powers in full force; sometimes they just go sword-to-sword, and Zoro only with one (though, still, Zoro knows he’s got the advantage even more than before). Of course he’s been training, but Law has, too, somehow finding enough space on his submarine or somewhere along his own journey. He swings his word down, faster, harder; the sound of it against Kitetsu is solid, satisfying, ringing into Zoro’s palm, and he almost loses time drawing his sword back. Shit. He’s underestimated Law, and Law knows it, had probably planned it, by the look in his eyes, but Law’s not afraid of tipping his hand, either--fine. (There might be more left to tip, still, but even if Zoro hadn’t been consciously aware of it his subconscious would have him more on alert, looking for the unfamiliar). 

Zoro brings Kitetsu around, swapping it into his right hand from his left, the delay interrupting his rhythm and interrupting Law’s anticipation; he drives forward with the hilt, and Kitetsu struggles, trying to go blade-first into flesh, but Zoro wouldn’t be going anywhere near Law’s arm with it if he didn’t trust his own will completely. The heel of the hilt smacks into Kikoku’s blade just as Law reacts, just as Zoro had thought he would, spinning it at the wrong angle, knocking it from his hand, and before he can recover, the sword goes clattering to the floor, and Kitetsu is poised, hilt-first, at the center of Law’s bare chest, right under the face on his tattoo. 

Law nods in surrender; Kitetsu practically snarls in Zoro’s hand, but Zoro ignores it, sheathes it with his other swords, and holds out his arm for Law to grab and pull him up. There’s a mark on Law’s palm from the hilt of his sword, and it’s soft against the inside of Zoro’s wrist. They probably shouldn’t go again today, but tomorrow, maybe.

* * *

Zoro falls halfway to sleep on Law’s shoulder, his hand just a few centimeters from Wado’s blade, in case the situation should arise. He feels every shift of Law’s body, forward, back against the wall, to the side, when he stretches his legs out in front of him. He should ask, maybe, how long Law and his crew are staying with them this time; none of them has said, made any indication yet--so, at least a little longer, Zoro thinks. He wants to move, but doesn’t want to bring himself too far into consciousness, even though his neck will be sore later. 

Footsteps, Luffy’s, sandals smack the deck. He drops beside them in one motion; Zoro doesn’t have to look to know how he does it every time. Law is looking, though; Zoro knows by the shift of his neck, the motion of a swallow. 

Their voices rise and fall, tones and cadences familiar, like the sounds of very particular swords through air, through fabric, through flesh. Zoro thinks, suddenly, of a long-faded scar on the back of his right thigh, from one of the first bounties he’d collected, a stupid mistake of youth and arrogance, the searing of the blade he’d ended up taking for his own and ruining a month later trying to shred his way through a plaster wall. Luffy drags out a syllable, and suddenly, without trying to, Zoro is more attuned to the conversation as if he’s on a dendenmushi call and suddenly the signal’s cleared, the outlines of the words like a sword properly cleaned. 

“How much longer are you guys staying?”

“Haven’t decided,” says Law. “Why?”

“Zoro,” says Luffy, kicking his foot. “How long are they staying?”

“I’m asleep,” Zoro says, the words smushing into the side of his jaw, into Law’s shoulder. 

It’s useless, though; the swell of consciousness has broken on him, and his neck and his jaw are both a little stiff and Luffy is still waiting for an answer to a question Zoro wanted to ask Law himself. He opens his eye, yawning; the sun’s behind a cloud but it’s still a little bright, and Luffy’s leaning forward with his chin in his hand. 

“As long as they can, I guess,” Zoro says. 

He yawns again, stretching his arms up against the wall behind him--it’s not like Law doesn’t know that Zoro wants him around (and Luffy does, and the rest of the crew does). It’s not like Zoro doesn’t know that as long as they can stay is less than Law wants to, less than Zoro wants him to. He looks over at Law, who’s looking at him, his fingers curled in his lap, his right shoulder still lowered to accommodate Zoro’s head even though it’s no longer there. Even if Law doesn’t need to hear it--

“Stay as long as you want.”

Not his ship, not his alliance, not his invitation to make, maybe, but Luffy can object if he wants. He clearly doesn’t, clearly doesn’t need anything else from Zoro at the moment, and neither does Law. Zoro lies back against the wall, his shoulder protesting a little as he stretches his arm out and tucks his hand around Law’s waist, shuts his eye again, and Law leans slightly into him. The sun emerges, warm on Zoro’s face and chest, and this time he falls deeper asleep. This time, when he returns, the sun’s passed by overhead, and Law’s full weight is leaning against his side, like a sword leaning against another, hilt to hilt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
